Heavy Impact
by yashkonu
Summary: Most people don't train like Yang and Nora do. Most people wouldn't enjoy it like they do. Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie are not most people.


The blow happened just slowly enough for Yang to notice two things. The first was that Nora's guard was never, _ever_ , as open as it appeared. The second realization happened when she saw Nora's face, the sheer _joy_ dancing bright in those turquoise eyes locked to her own, the grit in her smile even as beads of sweat dripped down her lips. The sight would have been like a blow to the gut, if the ongoing blow to the gut hadn't taken that honor.

Taking a hit from Magnhild, full-bore, was a _process_. The initial impact happened first, and even that was enough to lift Yang off her feet. Then there was the subtle change in Nora's stance as she shifted her weight. _Then_ she followed through with the strike, with all the force of a grenade and all the inevitability of a glacier. The pillar that stopped Yang's flight across the room buckled slightly with the collision. As she slid to the floor she felt her semblance fueling itself on the waves of blunt pain still cascading over her, dyeing her eyes bloody crimson. Nora charged again and _this_ time Yang rushed in to meet her, her semblance allowing her to blast across the room in the blink of an eye and dart under a blow that could have crumpled steel like so much tinfoil.

The blow happened nearly instantaneously, but in the split second before it landed Nora had time to notice one thing. The way Yang moved when she was like this – flowing muscles sliding and shifting under bronzed skin, tendons straining and pushing her to move _faster, always faster_ – sent a shiver through the whole of her being. Then scarred knuckles drove into her chin like a runaway train and lifted her bodily, hard enough to wrench Magnhild from her grasp and leave her gasping for breath on the mat when she landed. Yang collapsed next to her, her strength failing as the rush from her semblance wore off.

Yang and Nora trained together nearly as much as they trained with their respective teams. Stamina had always been a priority for Yang, thanks to her semblance, and after months of intensive training workout partners who could keep up were few and far between. Her partnership with Nora had started after a combat class had pitted RWBY and JNPR against one another. Weiss, Ruby, and Yang managed to take down Jaune and Pyrrha by the skin of their teeth, only for Weiss and Ruby to be ejected from the arena entirely by a well-timed hammer blow. Blake and Ren had worn each other down, dodging and evading endlessly until both were utterly spent. The match had carried on another hour and a half before Yang slowed down _just_ enough for a ponderous blow to send her sprawling across the arena. As Nora explained it later, wielding a weapon as slow and heavy as Magnhild meant you were going to take more than a few hits. To compensate, she had adapted her style to feign vulnerability and trained her body to be nigh on indestructible. With Magnhild in hand, she became both an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

A minute or so passed as their heartbeats slowed and their breathing steadied, then Nora stood, unsteady at first, and twisted her neck into a sickening series of cracks. Despite her size, Nora was dense with muscle. Even Yang staggered a bit under the weight of the shorter girl's weapon, but Nora twirled it like a baton. She stretched an arm out to Yang, hoisting her to her feet with startling ease. The motion brought them nearly close enough to touch, and Nora smiled into lilac eyes clouded with exhaustion and something harder to read. Heat suffused them both, a foggy, buzzing high born of exertion and emotion. Senses sharpened by combat took notice of subtle, telltale signs; cheeks blushing through the redness their workout had brought, clouded eyes darting down to lips and chests.

"So," Nora murmured, eyes bright with mischief, "are we done for the day?"

Her answer came when Yang shifted closer still, until their foreheads gently touched and their chests pressed together, sweat-slicked skin kept from contact by damp, straining cloth. Yang's still-heavy breath brushed hot against Nora's lips – until she decided to do something about it. The gentleness and restraint in the kiss surprised them both, their eyes drifting shut and hands running tenderly over flushed and bruising skin. When they parted and their eyes met once more, fatigue had already been chased away and replaced with smoldering desire that neither girl had the patience to resist.

"Not just yet, Nora. Not just yet."


End file.
